Darkened Reality
by Ryzxn
Summary: One-shot. Four years ago, Clary left for Idris with her mother, leaving behind a very hurt Jace. Now, she's returned, only to find Jace is marrying Isabelle the next day. Does Clary have the courage to interfere? There's darkness lurking behind the motives for Jace's wedding, and when a murder is committed, Clary sets out for revenge, only to have her life claimed by another.


**Darkened Reality**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

My eyes traveled slowly, almost lazily, around the yard, but, under no circumstances, would a passerby assume I wasn't alert. I was tense, muscled coiled tightly, ready to spring, as if expecting another Ravener demon to attack, like they'd done before. Only this time, I doubt he'd come to my rescue. My mind was racing, remembering everything.

To my right was the huge oak tree we used to climb. To my left was the porch we'd always rested on after a long day of practice-fighting, tag, or hide-and-seek, among other things, a glass of lemonade in our hands. This place had so many memories locked away. Things I'd forgotten – scenarios hidden away in the back of my mind for the rest of my life, under other circumstances, never to be thought of again – came rushing back.

I noticed the dent in a fence from when he'd gotten so furious at his dad, he'd punched the wooden planks, splintering them and leaving an enormous dent in the wood – as well as splitting his knuckles on his right hand. I had to take him inside while tears streamed down my face. I didn't know why I was crying, but I'd hated to see him feel so horrible. He'd sat in the kitchen while I'd bandaged his hand, grinding his teeth the entire time in an anger I'd rarely seen in him.

Then there was the freshest memory. The one I wanted to forget, but never could manage to block from my brain. It came back constantly, haunted me. It was the reason I'd lost my best friend.

. . .

_There's something in his eyes that tells me he's not happy. Well, I'm not happy, either. And I'm the one moving. I cross my arms over my chest and send him a pointed look. He glares right back._

_ "So, just up and gone?" He finally breaks the silence. Jace turns away, his golden eyes looking at everything but me, as if he's afraid I'll disappear as he stares at me. Which, in all honesty, is basically what I'm doing. _

_ I nod in response. "Yeah."_

_ "And there's nothing you can do?" He still won't meet my eyes. _

_ I nod again. "My mother got offered a position on the council in Idris. She wants me to go with her. She wants to go back to where she got married."_

_ "Why can't you stay here? The Institu—" _

_ I cut him off. "You know how your dad is. My mom would never let me stay. And, frankly, would you enjoy me living there?"_

_ "If it meant you got to stay with me," Jace replies. Then he meets my eyes. Emotions play in his golden irises. The weaker ones I understand. I'd seen Jace express himself before, and he never was very emotional, but then there's stronger feelings dancing in his eyes that I can't quite place. They seem to darken, the golden surrounding his pupils deepening. I find them captivating, so beautiful I can't look away. His expression is one I haven't seen in nearly ten years – a look of such sorrow it makes me want to cry – the look he wore at his mother's funeral and the days following it. __Suddenly, I don't want to leave him. I want to stay by his side through everything, I want to be with him for the rest of his life.__  
__We stare at each for a while. Then my mother's call rings through my head, which is empty of all thoughts except for Jace. "Clary! We're going!"__  
__I extend my hand in formal farewell, expecting him to be mad enough that he won't even shake it in return. "Good-bye, Jace," I say, managing not to choke on my words by some miracle.__  
__Instead of shaking my hand, Jace envelopes me in a hug, stooping down to bury his face in my neck. I'm a bit surprised at first, but my arms automatically reach around him and hug him back. I bury my face in his shoulder, reveling in Jace, the feel of him, the scent of him, everything. 'Cause this might be the last time I see him.__  
__"I love you," Jace whispers in my ear before pulling away from the embrace. He says it so __softly, I can't tell if he actually spoke, or if it was just my imagination. All the same, it makes my heart beat a little faster.__  
__He straightens, then leans forward again. Gently, he presses his lips to my forehead in a blessing. Then his breath fans over my face, as he murmurs his final good-bye. "Farewell, Clary. I'll never know how you can do this." Then he turns away quickly and begins walking away, but not before I see the look of betrayal and raw sadness on his face._

. . .

I started towards the house, the movement of my limbs feeling robotic and stiff. I didn't know how long I'd stood there, reminiscing about my childhood, but I didn't think it was that long. I walked into the house I'd once lived in. Though we had moved, my mother hadn't sold the house. It'd waited for me all these years, and, though I welcomed the thought of living here once again, my heart was empty, just like the home before me.  
I looked around the building for a short while, exploring the rooms I'd once known so well. Now they felt distant and cold. Their emptiness haunted me. Eventually, I took a deep breath and decided I couldn't put it off any longer. As much as I dreaded it, I had to go find Jace.  
I drove to the Institute, abandoning my car on the street outside. As I stepped into the Institute halls, I was greeted by Church. The cat rubbed once against my leg and allowed me to pat his head before trotting off down the hallway. I didn't follow. After a few minutes, Church glanced over his shoulder at me with an expression that I took that to say, _why aren't you coming?_  
I bit my bottom lip and followed the cat.  
Church, true to his glance over his shoulder, led me to Jace.  
He was beautiful. When we were younger, he's always been close to perfection, but his appearance now look my breath away at the sight of him. Even if he was slumped in a chair, asleep, hair falling into his face.  
I walked up to him, entranced. Without thinking, I reach out and brushed a few strands of hair out of Jace's face. Then I rested my palm on his cheek. As if alerted by my presence, Jace muttered something incoherent.  
It took me a few times for me to get what he was saying, repeating:  
"Clary."  
Then Jace raised his hand and pressed it on top of mine. His eyes opened slowly. He blinked at me, sleep glazing his golden irises, as if he thought I was a mirage. Just a continuation of his dream.  
"Jace?" I said, my voice sounding like a whimper.  
His eyes widened, and shock registered on his face. For once in my life, I saw Jace Wayland actually surprised.  
Jace dropped my hand and stood. I automatically stepped back out of habit, to give him room. He moved behind the chair, as if he needed an obstacle between us. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, sounding annoyed that I'd interrupted his beauty sleep.  
"I'm moving back into the old house," I said softly, watching him, his reaction, worried he'd still be mad at me for leaving.  
"You're– what?" Jace stammered. His expression hardened.  
"I coming back," I said, softer now.  
"Now you come back?" Jace asked, his voice low and dark. "Now? Of all times?"  
"I couldn't before," I managed to say without shrinking away from his tone. Something had changed. His expression told me things were different now.  
"You're twenty-one, Clary. You left when you were seventeen. You're trying to tell me you couldn't come back some time during those four years?"  
I flinched at his biting words. "I couldn't," I whispered. "My mother would've gone nuts."  
Jace looked away, his jaw clenching and unclenching. The same way it used to when he was furious with his father. There was silence. The whole time I was hoping he'd say something. I keep thinking of cheesy phrases such as, _can't you forgive me?_ or _please, Jace, can't we just put it behind us?_ but every time I opened my mouth, the words died on my tongue.  
Finally he turned back to me, his dark golden gaze meeting mine for a moment. For a split-second I saw that expression again – that expression of pure sorrow – and I thought I could see a hint of regret in Jace's eyes. "It's too late, Clary."  
Tears burned in my eyes, but I forced them back. "Too late?" I whispered, feeling like he'd just dropped a sledgehammer on my already empty heart. It shattered like thin glass. So he hadn't forgiven me. "Too late, for what?" I asked, already knowing the answer. My tongue felt numb, like my mouth was full of cotton.  
"Clary, don't ask why." Jace turned away, again. "It's just too late now. It would be better for you to go back to Idris."  
I opened my mouth to speak, but then Isabelle Lightwood, one of the girls who had stayed at the Institute all those years ago bounced into the room. I suppose I could have considered her an old friend.  
"Oh! Clary! It's been forever. What happened to you?" She took in Jace's almost defensive position from behind the chair. "Jace, I do hope you're not going to throw that chair at her or something. Come now, she doesn't bite." Isabelle turned back to me. "Are you here for the ceremonies? If you are, I'm afraid you got the date wrong. It's tomorrow. Oh, I didn't get that wrong on the invitation, did I?" Isabelle looked horrified.  
"Ceremonies? What ceremonies?" I asked, at the same time Jace, sounding annoyed - whether because of me or Isabelle, I wasn't sure - said:  
"You checked the invites four times, Izzy. I think you got it right." Jace sent me a look that I almost thought was guilt. Then he turned and began slipping away towards the door.  
"Silly girl," Isabelle said to me, laughing. "Our wedding, remember? Jace and I are getting married tomorrow."  
I opened my mouth again, but no words came out. Apparently the look on my face was enough of Isabelle to understand I'd never been told. She whirled. "Jace!" she said accusingly. He flinched and froze not two feet from the door. "You didn't send her an invitation? I thought you two were such good friends when you were younger. What happened?"  
Jace looked at the ground, a vow of silence. I suddenly wished that was the only vow he'd be making in the next two days.  
"Well," Isabelle continued when neither Jace nor I spoke. She stood with her hands on her hips for a moment, then walked over to me and took my hands in hers. "Despite my fiancé's . . . Difficulties, you're here now, and we can always add another chair to the dining table, right?" Her words stung like lemon juice on an open wound. I could tell Jace was happy about them either. "Do you have anything with you to wear?" she continued. "You could borrow a dress of mine if you'd like," Isabelle offered.  
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Jace shaking his head almost frantically but attempting to be subtle – trying to tell me to decline. Isabelle was right, though, I didn't have anything to wear, and, besides, who was Jace to tell me what to do? He was the one who wouldn't forgive me for something that happened over four years ago. I turned my full focus to Isabelle and tried to respond cheerfully. "I'm not sure if you'll have anything that will fit me, but I don't have anything else. Thank you. And sorry for intruding."  
"We'll see what I can do," Isabelle responded. "And don't worry about intruding. It'll be fun! Just watch."

_It'll be fun? _So what was the sick feeling of trepidation settling in the pit of my stomach?

. : . : .

I froze. It front of me stood a very handsome, and very much ignoring me Jace. He would've known I was here; he was an expert Shadowhunter, but instead of turning around to greet me as he would've done years ago, he kept his back turned to me.  
It was two hours before the wedding. Isabelle had already attacked me with makeup, and her flower girl (who was actually more like a sparkle boy) fixed up one of Izzy's old dresses so it'd fit me. Magnus' redesigned dress fit me perfectly, and Isabelle was a wizard with makeup. By the time they were done with me, I hardly recognized myself; It was all I could to keep their work looking decent and in one piece.  
His hair, in all its golden glory, was styled for the wedding, tamed and held down by gel and other other products. I had the sudden urge to tackle the groom-to-be, to run my fingers through his hair until the soft fluffiness I'd always loved returned. Even with his hair styled, he was gorgeous, flawless, except for the small chip on his front tooth, which I remembered noticing after a certain fight with his father.  
I slowly walked towards Jace. I felt slow and lethargic, as if moving through water. Tentatively, I reached out towards the boy I'd realized I'd fallen in love with, and my hand grazed his shoulder. Jace didn't move. His name formed on my lips, but before I could say anything, he spoke.  
"You can't do this Clary." He turned his head to the side and I caught a glimpse of dark amber eyes. "You can't come to my wedding." He opened his mouth slightly, as if about to add something, but then quickly closed it.  
"Jace," I whispered, so soft I doubted he heard. "How can you say that . . . After all this time, you won't even let your . . . " I trailed off, choking on my words. I continued after a moment when I got my voice back. " . . . Your best friend come to your wedding." His wedding. I wished it was our wedding. We could be so much much more than friends. So much better than that.  
I looked down and Jace moved away from me, so my hand was no longer resting on his shoulder. Quicker than I could have thought possible, he pinned me against the wall. My back hit painfully against the wall as Jace pressed close to me. Startled, I looked up, meeting his eyes, which were incredibly dark and full of mysteries. I realized I didn't know this Jace. This Jace was the dangerous one, the one that I didn't know because he'd only ever appeared when Jace was furious. But he nothing at be mad at me for, right? Was he upset I'd come? Did he think I's somehow mess everything up for him and Isabelle?  
We were both breathing heavily, and the shards that were left of my heart beat faster at how close we were – so close our chests brushed against each other when one of us to a breath. I could feel the warmth of him, and his touch on my wrists where he held my arms against the wall sent heat flooding through me.  
I studied him, studied his face, waiting for him to do or say something – anything. Then I realized I was staring at him, but wasn't he staring at me, too? Then, Jace leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, soft as a butterfly's touch, as if asking permission.  
My heart jump-started back to life.  
Apparently, no resistance was the permission Jace was looking for. He didn't give me very long to react before capturing my lips with his once again. He released my arms, and one hand came to hold my cheek while the other slipped around my waist, pulling me into him. As soon as my arms were released, I twined them around Jace's neck, holding myself to him pulling him to me to deepen the kiss. Automatically, I began running my fingers through the hair at the base of Jace's neck.  
Jace broke away first. He kept his eyes closed, as if unable to meet mine, as he leaned into my neck, snuggling his head in between my head and my shoulder. "Clary," he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin on my neck. "I can't do this."  
"Jace?" I responded, my voice soft. I still had my arms around him, and I began slowly stroking his head comfortingly, as if petting him. "What's wrong?"  
Jace suddenly stiffened. He stood up straight, forcing me to rest my hands on his shoulders. "Nothing," he said, voice curt. He looked at me, dark golden eyes meeting mine. "You can't come to my wedding," he reiterated.  
"Why?" I whimpered. Did Jace really think I was going to crash his wedding? Ruin everything? "Jace, I don't think that whatever reason you don't – " My breath caught as I realized how true the words I was about to say were. " – don't want me here for has anything to do with your wedding."  
Jace spun away from me, forcing me to drop my hands to my sides. He face the other side of the hallway. His fists were clenched, and I could tell his shoulders were tense. Jace made as if to punch the wall, but mid-swing, he seemed to lose strength, instead only lightly laying his knuckles against the wall. His hand then dropped to his side.  
Very quietly, so soft it was barely above a whisper, Jace said, "Because, Clary. If you're here, I don't think I can go through with it."  
Jace turned, keeping his back to me, and walked away. Just like how I'd walked out of his life, four years ago.

. : . : .

I stood in the back of the sanctuary, practically melting into the light pink curtains, and feeling as if that was what the rest of my life would consist of if Jace married today.  
Despite how much I envied Isabelle's role in this day's ceremonies, I wasn't one to ruin a wedding, contrary to what Jace might have assumed. There were mere minutes until my life ended with a Shadowhunter council member announcing Jace as someone else's husband.  
At least I didn't seem to be the only one suffering. Misery loves company, right? Standing across from me, on the other side of the sanctuary, was a young man, probably around my age, who was leaning against a pillar. He had brown hair, and, from what I could make out from the distance, dark eyes. If he and Jace were in a fight, this guy would have nothing on the hardened blond Shadowhunter. Despite his skinny frame, I had a feeling there was something more to him that met the eye. Instinct told me vampire, the fact he was standing in a church during daytime told my instincts to shut up because they didn't know what they were talking about.  
The man looked up at caught my eye. He made his way over. I watched him as he walked. He certainly didn't look like a vampire. He didn't hold the elegance or grace of a vampire, but as I watched his chest, I noted he never seemed to take a breath.  
"Hey," he greeted with a half smile. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. Just here for the wedding?" He glanced towards the altar and ran a hand through is hair. Chocolate brown eyes turned to meet mine once again.  
"Uh, no," I started a little awkwardly. "I'm moving here, actually. I mean . . . not the Institute. But nearby. My family owns a house here from a few years back."  
"You must be Clarissa, then," he held out his hand. "I'm Simon. I've heard about you. I moved here just a little while after you moved to Idris."  
I shook his hand. "Call me Clary. And you, you're here for the wedding, then? Or some other business?"  
He ran a hand through his hair again. "I'm here for the wedding," he said softly. "Friend of the accused. What about you? Who's side will you be sitting on?"  
"Isabelle's," I responded after a hesitation. I couldn't sit on Jace's side. He'd just get mad. On the other hand, if I acted like I was here for Izzy, instead . . .  
"Mind if I join you?" Simon asked.  
"You're here for Isabelle?" I asked. Well, he didn't look like the type of person who'd get along with Jace, anyway. Plus, he was much too nice to deal with Jace's haughtiness.  
"Of cours-" Simon coughed, clearing his throat and cutting himself off. "Yeah," he finished, "I'm here for Isabelle."  
For the second time, I felt as though there was something more to this boy than meets the eye. However, this time, I felt as though there was some hidden feelings hovering around him.  
The first family members, friends, and – such was the tradition of most Shadowhunter weddings – enemies began to trickle into the building. Classical music began playing softly in the background, giving the heavily decorated room a calm, sophisticated aura.  
"It's different than most Shadowhunter weddings, isn't it?" Simon asked me.  
"Yeah," I nodded to enforce my answer. "It's fancier. Most weddings are quick, simple, and to-the-point. We don't usually live long, so we have to make the most of it. Plus, we don't usually have weddings at Institutes, anyway." It was then I realized I'd just spoken to Simon as if he wasn't a Shadowhunter. Well, by the lack of Runes marking his arms, I assumed he wasn't but . . .  
"You're not a Shadowhunter, are you?" I blurted out, my mouth betraying my thoughts.  
He looked at me, eyes lighting up with amusement. "No," he replied, holding back a half-smile but not succeeding. "I'm not. I'm a daylighter."  
"Daylighter? Like vampire, daylighter?"  
He nodded. "And I can enter churches because I've met with Raziel." He drew back the hair from his forehead and revealed a small silver mark, much like the ones Shadowhunters bore, but more detailed and elaborate, yet smaller. It was a circle of twisting vines of silver ink, tangled together and free at the same time. "He's marked me as a friend of Nephilim."  
"I see. And what peculiar series of events led to you meeting with the Angel?" I asked, half speaking to myself.  
Simon just shrugged. "A lot happened while you were gone, I guess," he said after a short pause.  
"Yeah," I said darkly, "Apparently I missed some stuff when I was in Idris."  
With a quick glance, Simon reached over and took my hand in his. I was surprised at first, but the gesture was purely comforting, and I found it calmed me. It was if Simon knew everything I was going through without me having to say a word. Lifting our joined hands slightly, Simon gestured with a tilt of his head towards the pews. "Shall we?"  
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without screaming something about how everything about this was wrong – how I should be the one in the gold dress today. How Jace shouldn't be with Isabelle. How, despite everything, I couldn't help but feel betrayed by the man I loved, even though it was my fault. And, finally, how if I didn't do anything, I don't think I'd be able to live with myself because I sure as hell don't know how to live without Jace. Sure, years ago, we'd been the best of friends, and I'd never really been in love with him before, but you don't know what you have until it's gone . . . Right? And now I'm losing Jace Wayland.  
Simon led me to one of rows of seats in the back of the room. We sat together near the middle, hands still clasped. I suddenly got the feeling he needed the comfort of a friend just as much as I did right then.  
There was a commotion heard near the altar, and Alec stormed out of a hallway that was connected to the side of the room. Even with an outraged expression, Alec looked nice, which meant Magnus had dressed him. My eyes followed him as he stalked past us and out the door. I turned to glance at Simon. "What do you suppose . . . " I started quietly, but my voice trailed off as Jace emerged from the same hallway, a fading red mark on the left side of his face, and stormed after Alec. Despite how clear it was that there was something going on between the two Parabatai, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful Jace appeared as he passed.  
He was donning a simple black tuxedo that had gold lining on the seams that matched his eyes. His hair was still styled, or perhaps, restyled after earlier, but a few of his unruly curls had sprung away from their gel bonds and fell around his face in their normal positions. Once again, I had the urge to pounce on Jace, tackle him to the floor – though I know it'd only be possible if he allowed me to, considering how strong he is – and run my fingers through his hair until it once again framed his face in soft, curling locks.  
Simon whistled softly, under his breath. "What's going on between them, I wonder?" he said as he turned his head to glance at the exit Jace had just disappeared through. "Lovers' spats?"  
I couldn't help but scowl at the thought, though I tried to keep my laugh from sounding forced, I think I utterly failed. And if Simon's expression as he continued was anything to go by, my attempt at acting like this wasn't affecting me failed.  
"Sorry," he said, "I was being a bit insensitive."  
"No, no," I said quickly. I didn't want him to feel bad. "That was horrid of me; I know you were just trying to lighten the mood."  
Simon nodded and we sat there, quiet, turned slightly in our seats to face each other with Simon's hand resting on mine. After a few minutes, Simon looked down at our joined hands and ran his thumb over the back of my hand. I got the feeling he was preoccupied with something, but I was proven wrong when he suddenly asked in a soft whisper, "He really means a lot to you, huh? And I don't mean Alec."  
I didn't respond immediately, because right then, Jace walked into the room and towards the altar. I watched the beautiful gold-haired Shadowhunter until he disappeared into the hallway, then walked back out and stood near the altar. I think I died a little inside. Funny how years of demon hunting never killed me, but Jace's betrothal did  
"Yeah," I replied, my voice coming out in a whisper that sounded like a sigh.  
The conversation paused as a council member took his place behind the altar and motioned for us to stand. Simon dropped my hand as we rose and place it on my shoulder. "So are you going to do something about it?" he asked in a harsh whisper.  
"What?" I hissed in return. Though the thought of screaming insanities at the top of my lungs about how this wasn't supposed to happen appealed to me, I wasn't going to actually do it. "No!" I continued, "How could I . . . "  
Simon's hand slid off my shoulder and he turned to face the front rather than me. We said nothing.  
About five minutes later, as we were sitting down again, I stole a glance at Simon. He looked tense, but indecisive, his deep brown eyes flickering from place to place, rarely resting for more than a minute. My heartbeat quickened slightly with apprehension, wondering what beautiful nightmares I would witness this day, but also fear for Simon. What was he upset about? There was something going here, and though I wanted to know what it was, I couldn't bloody well do ask about it now, could I?

. : . : .

The wedding passed without incident. It took all I had to keep myself from running out of the room the closer it got to the words "man and wife." So many times I wanted to stand up, say quietly, "This isn't right. They don't love each other. Jace and I love each other. I should be wearing the gold dress today, not Isabelle," but I never was brave enough. After all that, I couldn't even stand up for the love Jace and I shared.  
But was it even that? He tried to ban me from his wedding. He didn't do anything about it, now did he? One kiss, however passionate, wasn't enough to claim our love was strong enough to stop whatever society decreed was right. Doubts invaded my head, corrupting my mind with thoughts of betrayal and even deeper grief than I was already feeling.  
At the reception, I found Simon again. He looked grim, as if at a funeral rather than a wedding – which isn't that far off from how I felt. We wandered off to a table in the corner, watching all the other guests who were oblivious to our misery.  
Towards the end of the reception, Simon rose from our table, motioned for me to follow, and walked out pf the room. Honestly, after watching so many people celebrate what was killing my from the inside out, I was glad for the chance to have an excuse to get away. I found Simon in a hallway. Simon turned to me.  
"I'm so sorry, Clary," he said softly, eyes shining as if he was about to cry.  
"What?" I responded automatically in surprise.  
"I'm sorry," he continued, "I couldn't do it."  
"Do what?" I got the feeling there was something more here, but my mind, too distracted by sadness, was too dense to see it.  
"Stop the wedding. After all this, I couldn't put my happiness above someone else's." Simon looked down and leaned against the wall.  
I felt sympathy well up in my chest for Simon. "You didn't have to, Simon. I know you didn't want this wedding to happen, but, hey, I couldn't stop it either." I neared him and put my hand on his cheek to make him look at me.  
Glancing up, Simon's brown eyes met mine. I don't know what compelled me to do it, but something made me lean towards him and press my lips against his. Maybe it was the fact that, for just one second, I could get over the pain of losing Jace and forget my problems. For one moment, I could forgot that Jace would never be mine, because, no matter how much I hoped, loved, and longed for him, he belonged to Isabelle.  
And maybe it was for similar reasons that Simon kissed me back.  
I focused on now, rather than the future and how I couldn't go on without Jace. Simon's lips were soft as they moved against mine, and I cherished the distraction from the pain in my crushed heart. Simon's hand came up to hold my neck, pulling me towards him. Had things been different, had I not been hopelessly in love with someone I'd never attain, had I not felt dead after witnessing Jace's marriage, had I not felt like I would endure hell for him, and had I not felt like my life was over now that I'd been through the event that destroyed my heart in an inferno of dark emotions, then there probably could've been something beautiful between Simon and myself. As is, I could never, truly, fall in love with anyone but Jace Wayland.  
Simon pulled away, leaning his head back against the wall. I put my head down at looked at Simon's unmoving chest rather than his face. After what Jace's vows did to me, I didn't think I could bear hurt someone else like that, and I think my shattered heart broke a little more at that thought.  
"This won't work," I said softly, as if trying to lessen the damage my words would bring if Simon liked me.  
"I know," Simon responded, and, startle by his words, I looked up at him.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I wish it would work out. I wish I could fall in love with you. It doesn't even have to be you. Anyone. Anyone this distract me from this – this pain. This – I don't even know anymore. But I couldn't do that to someone. It's just not in me."  
"What–" I paused, confused, but I felt that it was all being to fall into place, each piece fitting together like a puzzle, but it didn't click in my head just yet. "What are you talking about?"  
Simon opened his mouth to say something but seemed to choke, and I realized he was trying to say, "God."  
After recovering from his inability to speak the Lord's name, Simon continued, "–Clary, can't you see?" He sounded exasperated, though more so with the situation than with me. Simon sighed softly, seeming to deflate. "I'm in love with Isabelle."  
I felt the last puzzle piece fall into place. Simon and Isabelle. That's how he knew how I felt. That was how he recognized my pain and knew what to do to comfort me: he was doing the same for himself. I'd been so selfish! My own misery had captured my attention so greatly that I hadn't noticed the way, throughout the ceremonies, Simon had looked at Isabelle with hurt in his eyes. I remembered unconsciously noticing how wounded Simon was after the wedding.  
Simon chuckled softly and without a hint of mirth. He must have noted something in the look on my face, because the laugh preceded he words, "You really couldn't tell, could you?"  
I shook my head. "It makes sense now, I guess," I defended weakly. "I'm sorry, I was so wrapped up in m own proble–"  
Simon cut me off. "It doesn't matter," he said bitterly, looking away. "I was just another fling, anyway–"  
"Don't–" I started, but Simon continued.  
"–I just lasted a little longer than the others."  
I couldn't help but ask, "How long?"  
"Nearly two years," he responded, frustration once again lacing his tone.  
"Simon!" I exclaimed, my heart squeezing with empathy for him. "How can you say that's just another 'fling'?! That's half the time I was gone!"  
"Well the other half of the time she spent hating my guts or totally ignoring me," the daylighter retorted.  
"I know Isabelle; if you lasted more than two weeks, you're a legend. Two years? Hell would freeze over." Simon looked at me as I spoke, then looked away, a cold expression in his eyes. "Simon, look, what I'm saying is: Isabelle's in love with you."  
"Then explain to me how she could marry Jace! Is that love? Because if it is, I don't want any part of it," his response came out sounding like a hiss, as id his teeth were clenched. Without waiting for a response, Simon ran back into the crowd with the speed, of, well, a vampire.  
I sighed, defeated. I'd been trying to help Simon, but I hurt him instead. My heart contracted with emotional pain. I felt horrid for treating Simon like that. I was miserable knowing Jace would never be mine, knowing that there was nothing I could do now, nothing I could say to get Jace back. I remembered his hair, the softness of it, his eyes, deep, dark, and dangerously golden as he kissed me with a passion I matched – and could only match when I was with him.  
Something inside me broke then, and I sank to the floor, my back against the wall. Sob began raking my body. I wanted a less complicated life – one without Jace.  
Yet, at the same time, I knew I would never ask for anything different. A choked chuckle escaped me as I laughed at the irony. Like Jace's father would say, "to love is to destroy, an to be loved is to be the one destroyed." Only, but me, I loved, and I was destroyed.

. : . : .

I glanced up at the sound of footsteps. There were tear-stains on my cheeks, though my actual tears had long ago run out. My eyes were red, and I was freezing cold because everyone had left when the party ended, leaving the Institute icy and void of body heat. I shivered and looked at the feet of the person who'd stopped in front of me. I couldn't bear to look at the owner of the black boots in front of me.  
"Clary?" Isabelle crouched in down in front of me. She'd changed out of her dress. I turned away from her, looking down the hallway with my head tilted back against the wall. "Clary," Isabelle repeated. "What's wrong?"  
I sighed, rubbed my eyes, and felt the emptiness in my heart expand and swallow me whole. "It's nothing," I replied.  
"It's not nothing," Isabelle said, reaching out to pull some of my previously wonderfully styled hair out of my face. I jerked my head out of the way and moved the hair out of the way on my own. "Seriously, Clary," Isabelle continued. "What's going on? Was Jace threatening to throw chairs at you again?" Isabelle gave me a small smile as she attempted to cheer me up.  
I coughed out a bark of laughter before I could stop myself. A memory of happier times, if only slightly more joyous, resurfaced. Had that only been yesterday?  
"No, nothing like that," I responded, trying to keep my tone light.  
"Come on, Clary, don't push me away like this. What's wrong?"  
"I can't, Izzy." I knew I couldn't hold Isabelle off forever, but I could certainly try, right? Yeah, probably not. I opened my mouth to say something predictable like, "I'm in love with Jace," or a similar line, but when I tried to speak, I choked on my words, like Simon had choked earlier on the name of God. Instead, the words, "Simon's in love with you," spilled from my lips like water from a fountain  
Isabelle's expression darkened momentarily. "I know." She didn't add anything else.  
"That's it?" I asked, the annoyance lacing my tone making my voice rise in pitch. "He _loves_ you, Isabelle, and that's your response?"  
"It was an infatuation, nothing more. He'll get over it soon enough."  
I stood and Isabelle rose with me. I walked a few paces down the hallway, the turned and practically stormed back towards Isabelle. She glanced behind me, over my shoulder, and I ignored it. I wouldn't get distracted now. "Nothing more than an infatuation? Two years, Izzy! TWO. YEARS! That's an 'infatuation'?" I was breathing faster, my anger fueled by misery and pain. "He's not going to get over it. How long since you even broke up with him before the wedding, anyway?"  
Quietly, almost meekly – something she never was – Isabelle responded, "A week."  
"'A week'?! My God, Izzy! He probably thought you'd cheated on him - " Even I heard the incredulous tone in my voice, but Isabelle cut me off before I could really start ranting.  
"Let Simon think what he wants!" Her words were cold, but it was the anguished way she said his name that told me how she really felt – that I was right, and she was in love with Simon. "It's not like I wasn't known to do that, anyway," Izzy said, her voice getting softer with each word. "We're Shadowhunters, Clary, we have to do what we must," the dark-haired Nephilim finished, her voice barely above a whisper.  
"How can you say that?" Alec's hurt voice surprised me, and I spun around.  
"You know? Jace said nearly the exact same thing," His blue eyes were shining. "You know me, Izzy. You know I'd been the one who stuck to the rules more than you and Jace, yet I turned away from them for Magnus. For love. Why now? Why is it, all of the sudden, that you and Jace want to be perfect Shadowhunter's, following every council law?"  
"You can't possibly understand, Alec!" Isabelle snapped.  
"Want to enlighten me, my darling sister?" Alec growled. I noticed his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his muscles tensed at relaxed. "Yes, we're Shadowhunters, Izzy, but how can you say that when it's ripping your family apart?"  
"They would've killed Max," Isabelle's voice could hardly be heard. "They would have killed him, Alec! Do you think our family would've torn apart more by that or by my marriage?" Isabelle turned and swiftly walked away, not giving Alec a chance to respond, boots clicking coldly against the floor with each step.  
I felt everything falling apart around me. There was too much happening in such a short time.  
There was a vibrating sound, and I turned to Alec. He answered his phone and nodded once. Then his face fell. He snapped the phone shut and dropped his hand to his side, the phone slipping through his fingers and hitting the floor with a resolute _thunk._

"Alec?" I whispered, fear settling angrily in the pit of my stomach.  
"Please, Clary, tell me this is all a nightmare," he breathed back and sighed sadly. He looked back at me and I could see moisture in his eyes. "Max is dead."  
I swallowed hard, feeling my eyes sting with tears, though none fell. I didn't think I had the ability to cry anymore. "We're Shadowhunters, we can't waste our time with dreams."

. : . : .

Isabelle emitted a sound somewhere between a choke, a sob, and gasp. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she seemed to be biting her hand to keep from crying out. Tears leaked out of her eyes. Her mascara, which was once done beautifully for her wedding, mingled with the wetness seeping out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks. The fearless, invincible Isabelle stood before me, reduced to nothing and broken.  
I hated myself for it – considering she'd just lost the younger brother she loved (and the man she loved, for that matter) – but I couldn't help resenting her for the fact that she could lean on Jace through this. I'd loved Max. I was not as close to him, obviously, since I'd known him for ten out of the fourteen years he lived and since I was never at the institute where he lived as much as Jace, Alec, or Isabelle were. Still, I loved him. And he was only fourteen. Too young to die, even for a Shadowhunter. Still, I couldn't help holding something against Isabelle; I didn't have anyone.  
I glanced to my right and saw Alec, face buried in Magnus' chest, with the warlock pressing his cheek against Alec's dark hair. A pang of envy shot through me. Sure, there was pain, sorrow, and grief. But there was jealousy and anger, as well. Jealousy that I didn't have someone to turn to without feeling like I was invading a relationship. Anger that all this had happened. Who would want to kill Max?  
I had thought that the day I left Jace was the worst in my life. How little I had known. It's ironic that the day I come back to everything I loved - not just Jace, but this place, too: the trees, the home I left behind, Alec and Isabelle and Max and Magnus - is the day I feel like I'm losing it all. But maybe that's because I really have lost it all. I lost Jace the day I left him. I lost Isabelle when I found out she was marrying Jace and couldn't help envying her. I lost Max, today, too, when that greater demon decided the young Shadowhunter boy would be easy prey - which he was, since Max wasn't at all as well trained as any of the other Shadowhunters at the Institute.  
I lost Alec and Magnus when they became a couple. Not so much that I lost them, but more that they gained each other and drew away from the world to be alone together. I lost Simon before I even got the chance to meet him when I got mad at him for not stopping Isabelle. But, then again, I was being such a hypocrite since I didn't go after Jace, either.  
I even lost my parents. I left them, loving and happy, back in Idris. Still, I didn't regret returning. Though I'm sure I'd have a happier life not knowing, I could never had done that. I couldn't stay away from Jace. Maybe it was his beauty that put a spell on me, but on the other hand, it was also him. On his own. All of him. From all his sarcasm, and witty humor - to his soft interior that I only seemed to be able to see. All this made me realize that as much as it hurt - as much as the open wound that was my was bleeding so profusely - I could never regret Jace. He was perfect in the light of my flaws.  
As if my thoughts conjured him up from the chaos around me, Jace violently entered the study, the huge double doors slamming against the wall as their hinges rattled furiously. "What the hell happened?" Jace nearly screamed. Only I flinched at his volume. I didn't think anyone else had the energy to even cringe anymore. "I was out with Maryse when she got a call and ran off. I know the look of a parent mourning for their child when I see it. Now. By. The. Angel. Someone. Tell me what's going on," Jace continued. His voice was low, deadly, and his eyes were dark. I could tell by the muscle in his jaw that kept twitching that he was trying to rein in his anger. There was no doubt that Jace was as much a part of the Lightwood family as Alec or Isabelle by his reaction to Max's death.  
At first, Jace's words puzzled me, but then another memory pushed its way to the surface of my mind.

. . .

_We are out hunting – our first time. I'm only twelve, and Jace thirteen, but my mom and Valentine are with us. As well as Jace's sister. She's three years older than me, red-headed as well. I don't know where that gene came from in Jace's family, but it doesn't really surprise me, oddly. We're out because they need hunters. Demon populations are soaring, and though it's risky, it's worth it. Or so I'm told.__  
__We're attacked, three demons with long tails that have stingers on the end. My mid blanks when I see them, and I forget their names, but they remind me of scorpions. Jace's sister, Kamila, stands in front of us. I can tell Jace is put out about it, but I'm honestly too scared for our lives to care. But we're Shadowhunters. I've been trained for this and I should be able to push the fear down. And I do - that is, until a fourth demon that's larger than the others and obviously the boss jumps off one of the nearby roofs and lands directly in front of Kamila.__  
__I scream and jump, automatically drawing out my seraph blade and naming it, but I freeze after that, fear overpowering my movement. Valentine and my mother are busy fighting the other three demons. One goes down, Valentine's kill. In front of me, Kamila draws her seraph blade, her voice steady, as if she's known she's always been ready for this moment.__  
__ he lunges forward, digs the blade she named into the demon's head. Well, what could be considered a head.__  
__Black demon blood bursts out from the wound and the creature emits a sound similar to a screech, but it's vocal chords, if it has any, seem broken, and the noise turns into a half-animated gurgle. I hear Kamila scream as the dark liquid lands on her skin, burning her as demon blood does to all Shadowhunters as their angelic blood counters the venom. Another one of the demons that the adults are fighting goes down, slain by my mother.__  
__Kamila's knees give out on her and Jace ducks forward to catch her, cushion her fall. Before he reaches her though, the wounded demon's stinger flashes through air and strikes Kamila in the chest, right below her collarbone, next to her heart. She crumples to the ground. Jace falls at her side. I think he's wounded, and I run forward to attack. It sticks out a leg and trips me, but I somehow manage to slide my seraph blade across the demon's neck.__  
__Blood pours out of the wound and lands on my arm. I grit my teeth against the pain, but can't stop the whimper that slides out from in between my teeth. Then the demon explodes - the opposite of what it should do. Pain ignites all over my skin, as if I was just bitten by a million fire ants at once. I'm trying to be brave and fearless like Jace always is, but I scream despite my troubles. I hear the cry of the final demon going down. Then I hear my mom scream my name. I open my eyes, not realizing I had them squeezed shut. Half of my face burns from the demon blood, but my eye have miraculously been spared.__  
__My mom's face terrifies me. It's one of pure horror. She looks stricken. A choked sound comes from beside me and I see Jace crawling over, also covered in searing purple blood. "Clary?" he whispers. I notice his eyes are darker than usual and they shimmer in the light of the sunset. I wonder if he's crying for a moment, but it's a fleeting thought that's gone as soon as it came. Jace doesn't cry. He glances towards my mother and swallows hard. "Are you okay?" I only manage a nod, and it's weak, but I know he sees it because relief fills his eyes.__  
__I struggle to sit up, and pain shoot through my body again. The last this I see is Jace's amber eyes and, behind him, my mother kneeling next to Kamila._

_. . ._

It just dawned on me that Jace knew what the expression of a parent who lost a child because he's seen it before in someone he's close to. Not Valentine – not his father when he lost Kamila – but my mother. When she thought she lost both of her daughters at the same time, when, in reality, she lost one. The daughter who was born as a mistake, and died saving the daughter who was meant to be.  
I suddenly couldn't stand, and I sunk to my knees on the old carpet of Institute's study. It took me all these years to figure it out, and I wondered if Kamila knew from the start. It wouldn't surprise me. I'd always known my mother had kept things from me. I guess I knew the whole time, but I didn't think of it until now.  
Glancing at Jace, I wondered if he was aware, as well. Jace's voice jerked my thoughts into the present once again. "So? Just like that?" his voice was flat, broken. "Gone. Just like . . . " He trailed off and glanced at me, meeting my eyes. There was that same raw sadness in them. So he knew, after all. I wonder though, did Valentine or Jocelyn tell him? Or did he find out on his own?

Next to me, I heard Isabelle squeak. I'm not sure why, but I think it was because she was trying to suppress a sob. She suddenly whirled, turning on Jace. Her fist was clenched, manicured nails biting deep into the skin on her palms. Fresh tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as she spat out, "How could you? How could you let them . . . " Her voice cracked and she hesitated, swiping furiously at her eyes with the back of her hands. "He was just a kid. Fourteen, Jace! Fourteen!"

I don't think I'd even seen Jace not respond with equal vigor to someone who was aggressive towards him, so when Jace's only response was a quiet, simple, "I know, Izzy," I was definitely surprise. Even when joking around, Jace always had to have the final say with his bad humor and witty comments – things I'd seen very little of the past few days.

It broke my heart in a totally different way to see Jace so . . . shattered. Sure, it hurt a lot when I'd realized I'd fallen in love with him and then he married Isabelle, but this was different. It was from Shadowhunter to Shadowhunter. Blood brother to blood brother, parabatai kinda thing. I felt for Jace. I felt his pain, his loss, his torment, his emptiness.

Then a cracking sound, much like that of a whip, echoed throughout the room. Anyone who wasn't already watching Izzy and Jace turned to see the commotion. Jace, hand raised to his cheek, stood looking slightly shocked, blinking at Isabelle. She fell forward, collapsing onto Jace's chest. He barely had a keep them both from falling before Izzy kissed him. Hard.

For me, it was one of those moments you couldn't bear to watch, but couldn't look away, either.

They broke apart after a few seconds, and Isabelle clung to Jace, as if he was a lifesaver in an endless ocean, and cried into his shoulder. Yup. I really had no one to lean on. Except maybe Church, but, then again, the Institute's cat didn't like anyone. Except, maybe, Chairman Meow. Well, that idea when down the drain.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and, looking up form my position on the floor, my gaze met chocolate brown eyes. "Simon?" My voice came out in a harsh whisper, hoarse. I coughed, clearing my throat, and managed a little more coherently, "What are you doing here?"

"I was close to Max, too, you know," he quipped. The sympathy in his gaze told me he wasn't mad about earlier, but the hurt in his voice said he still didn't believe me. And the scene mere moments ago had definitely helped prove Simon's case.

Maryse suddenly jumped out of her chair, then froze as a few eyes turned to her. "I-I've got to call my h-husband," she stammered, choking on sobs. She fled from the room and the horrible atmosphere it contained. It was too tense in here. We should have been bonding, leaning on each other to help get over Max's death. Instead, there was a gaping rift or three separating us.

Even though Simon was here, I refused to depend on him. Maybe it was me just wanting to wallow in self-pity, or maybe I was just being hard-headed and stubborn, as usual. Maybe both. No matter the reasons, while Jace was comforting Isabelle, and Magnus and Alec were in their own world, grieving on their own, I was going to find out who the hell sent this demon to kill Max and then kill this sick monstrosity of humanity.

And, by the Angel, I'd do it, too.

When I was fighting with Isabelle earlier, she'd said someone was going to kill Max if she didn't marry Jace, but, later, just few moments ago, she'd screamed at Jace for letting them kill Max. This meant Jace was the real go-between. It had to be someone he knew. Valentine.

I glanced at Jace. He was probably itching for vengeance, too, but I couldn't let him do that. Not the day he got married. Not the day he left me. I may be crazy mad at him for getting married – and myself for letting him – but I was still hopelessly in love with Jace. I wouldn't let him die the day he was supposed to start a new life with Isabelle.

No, it had to be me. It's not like I had anything better to do with my life. And isn't that what I did? Hunt demons? Just this variety has a little less demon physically and a little more demon at heart.

. : . : .

I glanced up at the sky as I walked out of the Institute, dressed in full shadowhunting gear. It taken me longer to get going than I had hoped. Simon had trailed me as I slipped into Isabelle's room to find some of her old gear. When I'd told him to leave so I could change, he wouldn't relent until I told him what I was going to do. Simon didn't like my answer, but that wasn't going to stop me. At least that meant if I never came back that Simon could tell the others what happened. I just hope, if it comes to that, that I get the chance to accomplish my mission before I die.

Now that I'm here, though, I'm not sure what to do. I have no idea where to go to find Valentine. He was pronounced dead years ago, but his body was never found. He just disappeared, and no one had known where he'd gone. After a couple of weeks, the searches had stopped. Things happen. We're Shadowhunters, after all.

I racked my brain for an idea. Where would Valentine have stayed after all this time? He wouldn't go back to an Institute if he wanted to stay hidden; he was well-known nearly everywhere for his efficiency in demon hunting.

Then it hit me. His mansion in Idris. It was out of the city, in the country, basically in the middle of nowhere. There would be no reason for anyone to there. Sure, they'd searched the house when Valentine disappeared, but it would've been empty shortly after. The Clave claimed it and gave it to Jocelyn when she got a spot on the council. She didn't want any part of something that had to do with Valentine, so the place just sat there.

I was stumped, however, on how I would get there. Despite being so secluded and remote, the Morgenstern mansion (it kept that name, since my mother never renamed it) was technically part of Idris and still was under its protection. The last time I tried to portal into Idris to visit Amatis, my aunt, I'd nearly been thrown into Lake Lyn. There were barriers protecting Idris that even the most powerful known runes couldn't breach.

But maybe there were some unknown ones.

I'd known about my power to create runes for ages, but I had no idea where this blessing – I supposed I could call it that – had come from. The power to make new runes was one that was never seen in a Shadowhunter before, and, even then, very few people knew about my gift. My mother was worried the Clave would take me, hand me over to the Silent Brothers so they could dissect my brain and find out what happened to me to give me this ability.

. . .

_I'm just starting to drift off to sleep when I hear voices. I'm not sure if it's a dream or something is happening around me. My mother's voice penetrates my mind, sharp and clear and full of outrage. There's another voice present as well, one I can't quite place, but I know I've heard before. Male, but that's all I recognize._

_ "How could you?" My mother._

_ "It was an experiment. It doesn't seem like it worked anyway. She was fine. Perfectly normal."_

_ "You did it without my permission."_

_ "Oh? So now we've come to this now, have we? Does a father and husband need permission to try and give his daughter something special?"_

_ "She is not my daughter." My mother's voice holds pain and grief in it. She continues: "You destroyed what was left of my daughter when you led us into that trap."_

_ "Then, obviously, if you've disowned her, I didn't need your blessing to perform an experiment that would have given Kamila abilities beyond your imagination."_

_ "She was my daughter before you took her from me," Jocelyn snaps. _

_ "And what of Clary?" The other voice purrs, as if enjoying the conversation, enjoying my mother's hatred and rage._

_ "Stay away from my daughter. My _real_ daughter." I hear my mother's growl._

_ "Oh, but Jocelyn, you're much too late for that. I've already blessed her."_

_ "Get out." My mother's reply is low, dark, and full of pure, blinding, hatred. "Get out, now." The volume of her voice increases until she's practically yelling. "Get out!"_

_ "My dear Jocelyn," the other voice continues, but it's faded, as if retreating from the heart of the house and towards the exit. "We had something beautiful. My experiments would've been perfected, sometime. We could have started a master race of Shadowhunters. Unbeatable warriors, willing to burn down the world if we requested it of them. They would've done it, too, for we had given them life."_

_ There's the sound of a strike, then my mother's hiss, "Get out, Valentine."_

. . .

The memory resurfaced and faded as quickly as it came. Following it, was a rune – a series of flowing lines, flowering out from a center, complicated and simple at the same time. Loose and tightly coiled simultaneously in an odd sort of way. I didn't call to the power, but the ability somehow knew to help me if absolutely needed.

While hoping the rune wouldn't fade from my mind, I ran down the sidewalk. The glamour hid me as I rushed past adults and teens, all with somewhere to go or be. The first well-hidden alleyway I came across, I ducked into.

I nearly slammed into the wall of the alley as I hurried to grab my stele and draw the rune. It came to me like magic – which, in a way, it was magic – black lines flowing from the stele onto the wall, binding with it, creating something a Shadowhunter could use. It was a rune like no other. A new rune. One I'd created. As I lifted the stele away from the surface I'd just turned into a portal, I felt drained – more so than in the past two days after the news of Jace's marriage – and I knew the rune had taken a lot out of me. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I don't know, but I felt weaker.

I hoped desperately that the rune worked. Runes I'd created had never failed me before, but things could always go wrong. As a Shadowhunter, I had to be ready for anything. It would be wonderful if this rune got me right onto the manor's porch, but, with my recent luck, I doubted that would be the case.

With a deep breath, I stepped into the portal.

. : . : .

As I stepped out of the portal and took in my surroundings, the first thing I noticed was that I wasn't drowning in Lake Lyn. That was a good thing. Secondly, I realized that I'd actually gotten pretty close to the mansion. I was about a football-field length away from it, but still, on the property was better than I'd hoped.

As I trekked towards the looming manor, I looked back on the memory that had exploded into my mind along with the rune. Had it been a dream? Or was Kamila actually my half-sister? Or did it mean anything at all? Neither Valentine nor my mother had ever said anything that proved Kamila was related to me. But what _else_ could they have been arguing about?

I shook the thoughts from my mind as I walked up the steps into the mansion. The door was unlocked, and, upon opening it, I was greeted by ghosts – furniture covered in white sheets to keep the dust off.

Obviously, though, by the state of some of the coverings, not enough to keep out the rats.

As I searched through various rooms, I found little of interest, but I did notice how beautiful the manor really was. Even in disarray and abandonment – or so it seemed – the place was alluring to simply wander through its decorative hallways with elegance built into the very walls and rooms with graceful archways tempting me further into this labyrinth of artistry. I let myself be tugged and drawn into other rooms that caught my eye, each more interesting than the last.

Eventually, the series of hallways and rooms I'd allowed myself to follow led me to a grand library. Towering rows of bookshelves lined the walls. I stared in awe at the number of books. The manor was obviously not lacking in knowledge dancing among pages with binding keeping it from floating away on the breeze. Grand windows, with curtains that were once a deep crimson but now were faded to a light dull red, lined one wall, while the other three were covered in sundry books.

Under each huge entryway of sunlight was a window seat, most of them covered in books. Curious, I plucked a book off the top of one of the piles resting on the window seat. I opened it and found an inscription, detailing upon a memory of a girl named Tessa – whom the writing was addressed to and who was apparently pretending to be another female called Camille – and two boys, Will and Jem, who were discussing ducks that were not to be trusted. The inscription was from Will.

As I turned the page, about to lose myself in the story and gain the ability to dodge the pain of this world, I heard a tinkling sound, like small bells. Turning, I saw a figure I didn't particularly want to come face-to-face with, but apparently, she wished it so. I calmly closed the book and set it back in its place before returning my gaze to the lady before me.

"My dear Clary," the Queen of the Seelie court smiled sweetly. Her eyes, cold and dark, watched me with an intensity I'd yet to find in another creature's gaze. "You seem to be in a bind." She gestured at the books surrounding us and an odd cackling sound, which I assumed was the Queen's version of a giggle, escaped her lips.

"I need no help from you, my Lady," I replied, matching her sweet tone that hid her fangs behind her lips. I had no intention of asking a faerie for help. They may not be able to lie, but they had plenty of tricks up their sleeves. And they always wanted something in return.

"Oh, but I've come such a long way, just to see you." The Queen turned and looked about. "It's a beautiful place, isn't it?" She continued without waiting for an answer. "Too bad Valentine didn't come back here. He could have had a wonderful life in a mansion built for a queen. You know, I may have to look into this place. I could gladly rule from here. But – oh, alas – it's not underground. I'm sure my court could fix that."

"Enough chatter," I snapped, before returning to poisonous tone the Queen often used. "You know where Valentine is. What do you want?"

"What makes you think I want something, my lovely little lost Shadowhunter?"

"You always do."

"True," the Queen admitted. It wasn't like she could say otherwise. "But perhaps I'd like to do you a favor."

"You would lead me to Valentine for a price. What is it?" I was losing patience. This woman always threw me off balance, and I hated it. It made me snappy and rash.

The Queen turned her icy gaze back to me. "A life, if you return. Either yours or that of an innocent, a mundane. One that has not committed any crimes and knows nothing of what is behind the glamour."

I swallowed hard. It was better me than Jace, after all. I wouldn't kill someone else, and I left the Institute prepared to die fighting Valentine. I'd never find him without help.

"Fine," I growled. "But let me write a letter, first."

. . .

_To the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute_

_ I write this on the day of Max's death, which may be the day of my death, as well. I am currently at the mansion previously owned by Valentine, now under my mother's name. I came here looking for Valentine, whom I believe is not only alive, but responsible for Max's death also. I have been approached by the Queen of the Seelie Court, and she has agreed to reveal Valentine's location to me for the price of my life, if I return from my mission to rid this world of Valentine's unwanted self. _

_ To whoever is reading this, my life is already over. Either that, or I am rotting away in one of Valentine's hypothetical dungeons. I end this letter with messages to some of my friends residing at the New York Institute or nearby._

_ To Magnus, the High Warlock of Brooklyn:_

_ Thank you for being there for Alec. He needs you. And you need him. Thank you, also, for helping us, not only as kids, but also as the race of Shadowhunters. Perhaps, one day, Shadowhunters and Downworlders can work together, as we once did. At one point, you referred to me merely as a client, but Magnus, I am glad to call you _friend_. _

_ To Alec:_

_ Thank you for being Jace's Parabatai, because I know, after I left, he must have needed some way of getting rid of the anger. He probably would've died out there, venting out his rage on the hoards of demons lurking in the streets, had you not been covering his back. Thank you for protecting Jace, Isabelle, and I, because you were always watching out for us. Alec, my guardian and dear friend, thank you._

_ To Isabelle:_

_ Thank you. I won't tell you what for yet, but I believe you will find out should your marriage with Jace . . . flourish. _

_ To Simon:_

_ Thank you for simply being there for me. I've only known you for a short while, but I think both of us could have become dear friends. I love you in a way that perhaps only you will understand and in a way which I cannot comprehend and probably never will. All in all, just, thank you. Misery loves company, and I both love you and, in my opinion, think you make wonderful company. _

_ To Jace:_

_ Since I didn't have the courage to tell you four year ago: I love you, completely and with all of __my heart. This may by cheesy and sounds undeniably like I'm a love-struck fool – which I likely am – but, at least, you can't use it against me because I won't be there by the time you finally hear, or more, read me admit my feelings. I'm sorry if I'm making you feel regret. That is not my intention at all. Just know this: I've treasured every moment with you, whether you looked like you were about to chuck a chair at me or not. _

_ Things may have changed between us, but I still am thankful for knowing you. Thank you, Jace, for being my dear friend for all those years. For being by my side and always having my back. Thank you for the love you gave me, and I desperately hope that you are grateful for the love I shared with you. Perhaps I'm only wishing upon a star, but I'm captivated by a dream of one day being able to love you – and you, me – without anything between us. _

_ I'm going to die holding onto to that dream. _

_ Finally, I won't let any of you die fighting Valentine. If I fail, don't be rash. You all have someone you need to take care of, and that person needs to take care of you. Except for Simon, but I don't expect him to be rushing off to demolish the thread of life Valentine will be clinging to because, I swear, if I don't kill him, he'll have scars to remember me by. Jace, one last thing, I know you, and I know you'll use me as an excuse to not love another. You have Isabelle, and, as much as it pains me to say it, you should start family with her. _

_ Now I say goodbye, in all senses of the word. I love you all. Know that you shouldn't grieve for me. I did it for Max, and there will be enough sorrow brought to your minds with his memory. I won't let anyone else hurt when it is my pain to bear – and don't believe it is not, because I loved Max, too. Don't call my actions rash and not thoroughly thought out, because each and every one of you would have done it for him, given the chance. But please don't. Honor my memory that way: do not ruin your lives holding vengeance in your heart, for, I hope to have gotten revenge enough for all of us._

_ Clarissa Garroway. _

. . .

I held back tears as I finished the letter. I had found an old stack of papers in a desk in a study connected to the library and wrote out the message there. Folding the paper, I was about to hand to over to the fae Queen, with the request that she give it to the Shadowhunters at the Institute should I either return to her, or fail my self-given quest. She wasn't trustworthy, but there wasn't anything else I could do.

Then, a rune surfaced in my mind's eye. Something inside me said that the rune would deliver the letter after I accomplished whatever I could before I died, either by my own hand or Valentine's. I took out my stele and drew the rune. The letter disappeared, and I turned to the Queen. "Alright. Let's go."

"Before you go to your probable death," the Queen purred and produced a small silver bell on a chain from somewhere on her person. She handed it to me. "Should you succeed, ring this, and you will be transported to my realm. Bring the life you wish to sacrifice to me in return for this favor."

Moving slowly, gingerly, I took the item and looped the chain over my neck.

The Queen continued, "You may also use it to escape, if you wish. But you will still owe me a life, and, unless Valentine has an innocent mundane lurking about, it is unlikely you'll survive." She met my eyes and chills ran up my spine. "Ready?"

Everything in me screamed to retreat, but I nodded an affirmative anyway.

. : . : .

The enormity – the impossibility – of what I was doing hit me as the Seelie Court Queen transported me to Valentine's lair, as I'd begun to think of it. I was about to die. For Max, but, all the same, either fighting Valentine or returning the Queen's favor, my life was going to end. And I couldn't help wishing for the things I would never attain in the future, if I'd gotten to chance to have it.

I wouldn't be able to fix up the house I was going to move into, as I'd hoped, before this whole ordeal started, and I'd never get to live my life on my own, away from my parents. I'd never get to fall in love. Well, not really. I'd never get to start a life with someone and have a family. Then again, I don't think I'd be able to have that kind of future even if I could manage to cheat death.

I felt solid ground beneath my feet, and I opened eyelids I didn't know I'd been tightly closing. As my eyes adjusted to the bright of the blazing orange sun in front of my, I heard the faint tinkling of bells – a reminder of what I owed Her-Royal-Highness-Of-A-Hole-In-The-Ground-That-Was-Not-A-Hobbit-Hole. Ignoring the sounds and without glancing behind me to make sure she was glaring at me with her icy gaze, I started forward into the forest before me.

The world seemed determined to contradict my mood. The branches of the trees around swayed on a slight breeze, dancing leaves rustling as they brushed against other autotrophic ballerinas. I continued through the forest, fallen, dried-out foliage crunching beneath my boots. Sunlight swam through the forest, turning the red-brown tree trunks around me to a deep golden, a hue that reminded me so much of Jace that it brought tears to my eyes.

Despite the environment's beauty, something about it set me off. I'd been walking for a good five minutes before I recognized the silence was what made me so uneasy. Aside from the sound of my own footfalls, I heard nothing. No birds. No insects. No sounds that accompanied a normal forest biome. Nothing. Silence. Complete, hovering, and deadly. I felt like there was a snake behind me, milliseconds away from striking.

And then I saw the manor.

There was no doubt it was old, for part of the stone walls had aged and broken, collapsing in on the room and halls below. However, part of it was in good repair. It looked grand, and new, and welcoming, in an ominous, dark, sort of way. So this was where Valentine hid: in a mansion, in a remote forest, where any screams of his victims could not be heard from the closest civilization.

Two large wooden doors sat in the stone that looked clean, like it was recently replaced or rebuilt. The doors themselves were beautiful, with the Shadowhunter motto, _Descensus Averno facilis est_, engraved at the top, and runes decorating the door. Two Angelic Power runes were turned into great handles on each door.

With a strong tug, I threw the doors open. I hadn't thought about what I'd do once I found Valentine, or how I would find him here, but, if I was going to die anyway, I might as well just march right in. I entered the mansion, and was greeted by a long hallway, with other rooms branching off from it. The doors swung closed behind me and clicked shut. It was a depressing thought if the doors were locked, but there was no turning back for me now, anyway. I couldn't leave, without trying, just to be hunted down by the Queen's court.

I moved to inspect the first room I came upon. There was no door, just a tall archway. A chill ran down my spine as I walked underneath it, as if it was saying, _dark things await you in here._

It was a study, of some sort, with artifacts and heirlooms of all sorts scattered around the place – on a pedestal, a bookshelf, sitting on a desk, laying on the ground next to chair. In the back, in a corner, wedged between a shelf and a lounge chair, was a mirror. Or, least, that was what I assumed it was. But, as I watched, this version of me didn't have emerald eyes, as I did. She had dark gems that threw sharp, icy glances around the room, and her stance was different.

I started when the reflection moved on its own, and I realized it wasn't a reflection. A red-headed female, slightly taller than me, the same hair, same shape of the body, with a deep crimson gaze began walking towards me. Our gear was the same – Shadowhunter black, dressed for a battle and armed to the teeth.

"Welcome, Clarissa, to the Morgenstern Mansion." her voice was familiar. Deeper than I remembered, but familiar.

"Who are you?" I took a step back as she continued approaching.

"You don't remember me? My dear Clary, I'm Kamila." She smiled sweetly. Or at least attempted to. I recognized Jace's smirk in her venomous expression.

I shook my head. "You're Jace's sister. I mean, _were_ Jace's sister. You died." I should have been freaked out, but, instead, I figured that whatever Valentine was going to throw at me didn't matter, because I was a Shadowhunter and I'd seen enough weird things in my life. Besides, it didn't matter anyway if I was going to die. "Death didn't suit me."

She kept nearing me. I kept backing away. Finally, she said, "My, my, can't recognize your own sister?"

I froze. I blinked at her a couple of times. "My mother," I whispered as everything clicked into place, "Jocelyn, and Valentine." Memories of my mother and Valentine fighting when I was a child came back. She wasn't given the mansion as a present from the Clave. It was hers. She inherited it from her husband. "So Jace is my . . . ?" My voice trailed off as different thoughts fought for attention in my mind.

Kamila laughed, a harsh barking sound that helped bring me back to reality as it pierced my ears. "Silly little Shadowhunter," she purred, "Of course not. Jocelyn gave birth to me, then divorced Valentine. My brother isn't related to you at all, thankfully. His mother is some other woman. I don't know how he'd react if he fell in love with his sister. Probably would be torture for him."

A sigh of relief escaped my lips before I could stop it.

"Oh?" Kamila continued, her voice as smooth as silk, "So you've finally fallen for his charms. My dear Clarissa, what have you gotten yourself into? Did you try and prevent his marriage?"

"How do you know about that?" She lived miles away. In a stone mansion. With civilization not within a 40-mile or so radius. I was assuming.

"I'm his sister. Of course I would know. I helped planned it." She turned and absently began examining an old paper laying on the desk.

"I didn't happen to see you there," I growled in response.

"You even went to the ceremony? This _is_ marvelous!" She paused, then deadpanned, "I had business."

"I won't intrude," I sneered. "I don't have time for you. I'm looking for Valentine."

"Oh, I'm afraid you won't find him. This mansion is much too complicated; he's probably hidden away in some crevice of some sort, working on his experiments." Kamila looked up at me an smiled again. "I may be able to find him, if you'll trust me to take you there."

I was going to die anyway, I reminded myself. "Lead on."

. : . : .

Kamila led me through numerous rooms and hallways. I would never find my way out of here on my own, but it wasn't like I needed to. I had the Queen's bell, and there was only one place I was going to go after I finished with Valentine.

I didn't trust Kamila, but I could tell, as she had said, I would have never found my way to Valentine on my own. The twists and turns and ups and down of this place confused me, shattered the fragments of my brain that worked.

We were descending a spiral staircase that could have been fifty feet in the air or fifty feet below ground and I wouldn't have known when Kamila announced, "Almost there."

After reaching the bottom stairs, Kamila opened a large metal door and held it open for me to enter. As I passed, she called into the room, "Oh, Daddy, darling, someone's come to visit you!" I glanced over my shoulder at her in puzzlement, but she merely smiled softly at me.

The room was large, with a ceiling probably towering about two stories above me. Helping to make the room look so big, was a lack of furniture, aside from a block of stone on the far wall. There were no windows or doors, but witchlight stones were embedded in the walls, providing ample light for me to recognize the block for what it was: a tomb. No Valentine in the room.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turned back to Kamila. "He's . . . dead?"

She walked over, then towards the stone coffin. "Quite recently, actually, a tragedy." She ran her fingers over the lid of the tomb, then said, "Right after I gave the order to kill the kid – what was his name? Oh, yes – Max." With a light hop and turn in the air, Kamila sat on top of Valentine's grave. Her eyes shined black in the witchlight dim and cast shadows across the room at the mention of Max's name, as if demons were in the darkness, made attentive by the thought of another innocent kill.

Fury surged through my body, making my blood boil. "You killed him."

"Finally catching on now, are we?" Kamila purred, perfectly at ease while sitting on a tomb. I drew a dagger from my belt, and she still didn't move. Instead, she continued, "Valentine was too hooked on his idea to make a master race of Shadowhunters. He forced his son into marriage, threatened to kill Max to make Jace cooperate."

I tightened my grip on the dagger, tensing my muscles to throw it. Kamila ignored me. "But then he wanted to drop it with Max afterward. Just let Jace do his own thing, basically. There's no fun in that though. Valentine's idea was old. I disposed of him, and his useless experiments. I figured I could just use my _connections_ and start my own plans. The world doesn't need angels, Clary, it's needs demons. Thriving is a thing of the past, it's time to _burn._"

I shook with anger as I threw the dagger, aiming at Kamila's shoulder, right above the heart. "He was a kid!" I screamed, drawing a seraph blade, but not naming it. Kamila didn't even get off the grave, instead, she held up her hand and the dagger struck deep into her palm. "He didn't have to die! He was a kid, never got to grow up, didn't even get to finish his training." My voice fell to a whisper as tears streamed down my face. "You broke everyone, we loved Max."

I sucked in a breath as the seraph blade in my hand flared to life, responding to the name. I raised the weapon and stared at it. "Oh, Max," the sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. Then something slammed into me, throwing me on the floor and knocking the wind out of me. My seraph blade flew from my fingers and hit the floor, skittering away on the stone. I gasped for breath as Kamila straddled me, sitting on my stomach and making breathing a thing of dreams.

One of my arms was being smashed underneath Kamila's knee, and the other she held above my head with one hand. Her other hand held the dagger I'd thrown at her, still dripping with blood as black as coal. Her red eyes glinted and she leaded forward, the dagger pressing first into my cheek, drawing blood, and then slowly sliding down. The whole left side of my face felt like it was on fire as she left a wound going from below my eye to my jaw.

The dagger lifted away from my skin, then I felt the warmth of the blood on it on my neck. "Would you like to join Valentine in his quarters, or would you rather stay out here, rotting on the stones, for all the rats and little nasty things to eat?"

My vision was starting to go black at the edges, and, with a surge of strength that only would've come from being a very ticked-off, adrenaline-filled Shadowhunter that was trying to save her own butt, I managed to get Kamila off me. I sat up and lunged for the seraph blade. Kamila growled from a little ways away and threw the dagger. It hit me in the shoulder on my back, and I ground my teeth against the pain.

My fingers grazed against the handle of the seraph blade, and I derperately stretched to grab the angelic weapon. Behind me, I heard Kamila moving around and the sound of metal against metal, as if a blade was being pulled out of a sheath. I rolled onto my back – painful with a dagger stuck in your shoulder blade, but a move that kept me alive. The seraph blade I held in front of me vibrated with power as Kamila struck at me again, this time with claws, literally. Whatever Kamila was, it wasn't human. Six-inch-long metal talons protruded from her fingertips and tapered into needle-like points.

She pressed against my weapon, claws scraping against the blade as she struggled to get her nails into my neck. I lifted my leg and kicked Kamila's stomach, throwing her off me, then gasped in pain as the sharp edge of the dagger sunk deeper into my back when I used to the ground to give my kick more power.

I struggled to my feet. I could tell by how hard it was to get up that I'd lost a lot of blood. Reaching back and plucking the dagger from it's place buried in my flesh made warm blood seep down my back. Dizziness made holding my stance steady nearly impossible, but I manage to keep from falling over as Kamila stood and produced a sword from somewhere on her person.

She smirked. "Mother would be proud," the other red-head muttered, then named the weapon in her hand. Instead of going up in a flare of dazzling light, as seraph blades did, it emitted a dark purple glow, followed by smoke.

Rage gave me renewed strength. "My mother is nothing like you," I growled, steadying myself, preparing an attack.

"Jocelyn? Jocelyn is not my mother, she is nothing to me." Kamila laughed, raised her arms in the air, and sang, "My parents are the demons of the world." She spun in a circle, reveling in the shadows that danced upon the walls at her words. She froze when she faced me again, then pointed the demonic weapon at me. "Your time has ended. It's time for the demons to rule."

. : . : .

Terrifying blackness, utterly surrounding and dominating, filled me, controlled me. I ran through it, lost, scared, unable to go on any longer, but knowing that if I stopped, there would be a worse fate than this. I screamed for my mother. I called out to Magnus, and Alec, and Isabelle. I yelled for Simon and hoped for Simon's comfort. And most of all, I longed for Jace. All of him.

His arms could renew my ability to feel. The sight of him could get rid of this blindness. To hear his voice would return the ability to hear music to my ears. The scent of him would let me once again smell the wonders of this world, like flowers and fresh fruit. His kisses would renew my taste. Had he been there, I could have lived again.

But there was no Jace. Just nothingness.

The urge to run faded. I was just there, lying in a pit of darkness. No sight. No touch. No smell. No taste. No ability to hear. I was fading away to nothing.

Then, out of the darkness, I heard something. Or more, knew how it sounded and imagined the beat of it when I felt it in my heart. It was a thrumming tune, much like the beat of drums. It started out slow, soft, gentle. Then it continued to increase in volume and speed, until a crescendo that was a heartbeat consumed me.

I don't think it was my heart pounding in my ears, giving me back my senses, but I didn't fight it. As my sight returned, a rune formed before my eyes, imprinting itself on my brain. Then it all went black.

. : . : .

I woke up lying on the stone floor, a pool of blood increasing in size around me. Whatever had brought me back obviously hadn't done me the favor of healing by wounds, but I wasn't dead, thankfully. Kamila stood by Valentine's burial site, shadows dancing around her, embracing her. I sat up. Doing so brought on a wave nausea, but I forced the feeling away. Silently, I reached over to my seraph blade, but it dissolved into dust as soon as I picked it up.

"Max," I mouthed the word. Of course, the dust didn't respond.

The only useful weapon I had left was a dagger, but it was enough. I struggled to my feet, still being as silent as possible. The dagger was clutched in my hand, my grip so tight, sweat was already beginning to form on the handle. The shadows behind Kamila didn't get the chance to warn her as I ran at her. My steps were unsteady, my head spinning, but I was determined. Something brought me back for a reason, and Kamila was going to die.

I barreled through the shadows. Their icy touch froze my skin, turned my feet to lead. I struggled forward. The shadows screamed and writhed. Chaos was surrounded us as Kamila turned, a look of surprise in her crimson eyes, and I plunged the dagger into her neck, right above her collarbone.

Her knees gave out from under her; her black blood dripped onto the stone below. She caught herself from falling all the way to the floor with her arms, but they were shaking violently. A sound emitted from her throat, something I assumed might have been a laugh. "So," her voice came out warped and gurgled, as if she was underwater, "You were an experiment, too."

Then her arms gave out underneath her, red hair mixed with blood, and the crimson in her eyes faded to a dull red-brown.

"Looks like the rats will make a feast of you," I spat. Then I fled from the room. I was halfway up the spiral staircase when I stumbled. The chain on the bell around my neck broke, and the tiny instrument slipped to the floor. It rolled down the stairs, it's tinkling filling my ears. My vision went white, and I could see nothing.

. : . : .

I awoke feeling drained of energy, but definitely alive. At least Her-Royal-Annoyance hadn't killed me yet. I was lying on a something akin to a couch, and a member of the Queen's court stood nearby. I sat up.

"Merliorn," I greeted, remembering the name of the fae Isabelle had dated before I left for Idris.

"My Lady will see you when you are able to meet with her," Merliorn replied, skipping formalities.

"I'll go now," I responded. My voice was weak, but that was nothing compared to what the wound on my back could have been if not treated. At least the Queen had been, for lack of a better word, kind enough to heal me. I stood, swayed for a moment, steadied myself, and then followed Meliorn through the maze of underground tunnels that the Seelie Court consisted of.

As we walked, I asked, "How long was I out?" Fae weren't ones for conversation, but I'd hoped Meliorn would at least answer me.

"It is almost you second night here."

"So, almost two days?" That was stretching it for me. Jace and the other would be searching for me, I know, and it was a matter of time before the came to Seelie Queen.

Meliorn didn't respond. Instead, he stopped walked and stepped to the side, holding a curtain of vines apart for me to enter. I walked through the doorway to be greeted by a room washed in the orange light on the setting sun.

A hole in the roof of the cavern that let the sunlight in gave the Queen's skin a faint glow as she lounged on a plush loveseat. She smiled faintly as I approached her.

"Clarissa, my dear Shadowhunter, did you accomplish the feat you set out to achieve?"

"I'm here; what do you suppose that implies?" I snapped. Again, I was letting this woman affect me. I wasn't one to particularly dislike people in general, but something about the fae Queen messed with my head and made me utterly hate her.

"Oh, finding enough strength to be callous, are we?" she purred.

"What's the worst punishment you can inflict on me?"

"Is that a challenge?" The Queen smiled and my blood ran cold. "There are things worse that death."

A growling sound rose in my throat in response.

The Queen raised an eyebrow, and then her smile grew. "Perhaps you won't be do defiant once you get a taste of what I mean." The Queen paused and sat up, leaning forward as she rested her arms on her knees. For a moment, she looked as if she was considering something, then said, "Tell me what you want most, and I will make your death more pleasant."

Before I could register what I was doing, I stormed over to her and cracked my palm across the side of her face. I leaned over the Queen as she sat, looking slightly stunned, and whispered, "You will never touch Jace."

As the Queen met my eyes and laughed darkly, I stumbled back, realizing what I'd just said.

"The boy means so much to you?" The Queen snapped her fingers and two guards entered the room from behind me. To the guards, she said, "Restrain her."

One of the guards, who I realized was Meliorn, held my arms tightly behind my back as the other guard hovered near my shoulders. Backup, I assumed. After another call to more members of her court, two other guards entered from another passageway to my left. With them, was Jace, face covered in large purple bruises, and the rest of him covered in cuts and dried blood.

I struggled against Meliorn's grip to no avail. "What is he doing here? What did you do to him?" The screams torn at my throat as I shouted at the Queen, though my eyes never left Jace's limp body. Was he dead? He couldn't be, right? I'd done all I could to avoid that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Queen smile. Though I wasn't able to, I was ready to lunge at her a rip her throat out. "He came here, so distraught, looking for you. He was so insistent. He must have cared for you so much."

"You lie!" I spat.

"You incompetent Shadowhunter," the Queen purred, "Faeries cannot lie."

A feeling of pure dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I realized how true her words were. "You can't have killed him." My voice came out in a whisper, disbelieving. Though sorrow welled up inside me like a fountain full of dark, cold water, I couldn't cry, as if I'd run out of tears to shed.

"Oh, he's very much alive," the Queen assured me. Hope flared in my chest, then shattered into oblivion as she continued, "But you just sealed the death warrant of this man."

Before my mind could clearly comprehend what was happening, a single look from the fae Queen told the guards what she wanted. One jerked Jace's head back by pulling on his hair, while the other slid a long dagger out of its sheath on his belt. For a moment, time froze as Jace's beautiful eyes, luminescent and golden, locked onto my unblinking stare, and then the light in them faded – his throat cut – and his body dropped lifelessly to the ground.

"Be glad you get one last look at your star-crossed lover, Clarissa, because your life was promised to me."

The words reached my ears and hardly registered. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Jace. Even broken and bloodied, and very much dead, I couldn't stop watching him. He captivated me in death as much as he did in life. And the Queen was right, I cherished this. I hated her more for it all, but I stored the memory of that one last exchange of gazes in my heart. Because, if I was going to die, I was going to die remembering something I loved.

And even after all that, no tears came to my eyes. I felt like an empty shell. I had no fight left in me. Whatever was going to come was going to come, and nothing could change that. I knew what I was getting into with the fae Queen when I promised her my life, but I'd hoped, dearly, that Jace wouldn't have had the chance to throw his life away yet.

And now it was too late.

The Queen's description of star-crossed lovers was accurate enough. I'd never get to have a life with Jace. But it wasn't that fact that had me feeling so hopeless. It was because I'd failed. I'd destroyed Max's killer, yes, but my goal was to protect the people I loved. How could I have let this happen? Why did Jace look to the Seelie Queen for help? He knew the danger more than I did. If only I'd sent the letter to him earlier.

The Queen scowled at my silence. With no responses from me, she had nothing to tease and poke at. She stood and walked towards Jace, her back towards me. A dismissive wave of her hand in my general direction signaled to the guards the exact same words that she voiced, "Kill her."

I heard the sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath behind me. I had no strength to struggle, and I was practically held up by Meliorn's hold on my arms alone. The cold metal pressed against my throat, and then I felt nothing.

At first, I thought I'd died. My body slid to the floor, free of Meliorn's grasp, and my cheek was pressed into the cold earth below me. And then I heard a voice I'd thought never would be music to my ears, until now.

"Don't touch her," the voice was strong, protective, and so, so familiar. I thought I was dreaming, or simply hallucinating. Or dead, and all of this wasn't real. "Restrain your guards."

"Clary," the voice sounded close, next to me. "Are you okay?" A hand gripped my shoulder and rolled my body over, so I wasn't face-planting the dirt. A pair of blue eyes met mine, and the dark-haired Shadowhunter repeated, "Clary? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

I couldn't seem to find my voice, so I shook my head. Then, croaked out, "Jace."

Alec glanced over his shoulder at the limp form of Jace, then glared at the Fae Queen. "Get rid of this illusion, Witch," he snarled.

In my state, I couldn't process much going on around me, but I cried out when the Queen, frowning, waved her hand at Jace, causing him to shatter into thousands of glass pieces before fading away.

"Clary, it's okay," Alec comforted me, but I couldn't conceive _how_ it was okay. This wasn't right. Jace was gone. How could Alec be so calm as he knelt next to me? He gently lifted me into his arms and began carrying me bridal-style towards the door. The Queen's voice stopped him.

"The girl belongs to me. She promised me her life, or the life of an innocent."

"You neglected you put that in your letter, Clary," Alec muttered, his voice low and sounding slightly annoyed. He turned back to the Queen and replied, "My brother is dead. The blood of an innocent kid paid for Clary's favor long before she came to you, Your Highness. Now, if you excuse me, I have a pair of star-crossed lovers I need to reunite."

Then, turning, Alec waltzed out of the Queen's domain, me clinging to his gear until exhaustion finally lulled me into a welcome darkness.

. : . : .

I sat in Alec's room, feeling better with the help of some _iratzes _and a couple of glasses of water. Magnus appeared in the doorway and took in my solemn expression. "Clary," he said softly, walking over and taking a seat next to me on the bed. I looked up, only to drop my gaze back to my lap. "What's got you so down?"

Something snapped in me. "How can you two be so calm? So normal?" I growled angrily at Magnus and Alec, who was leaning against the wall opposite of me.

"We've had our time to grieve for Max," Alec said softly. "It's gotten better. It still hurts, but it's better."

"And what about Jace?" I snarled.

"Jace?" Magnus echoed.

"Yes, _Jace!_" I stood up and whirled on Magnus. "How can you be so – so . . . content," I spun so I was facing Alec and finished, "When we just saw Jace dead! Do you have that little love for your parabatai, Alec?"

Alec blinked at me. I was probably yelling loud enough for every inhabitant of the Institute to hear, but I didn't care. I turned on Magnus, "And you–"

A velvet voice, like a cat purring, interrupted my rant and shocked me so much that, at the sound of it, I turned and promptly fell on Alec's bed. "So, I'm dead now, am I? Last I checked, I was very much alive. Would you like me to prove it?"

I couldn't even form a coherent word, except for, "Jace?" He was leaning against the door frame, in all his golden glory, with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a few cuts, and a bruise that was just beginning to turn purple on his jaw, but that didn't matter. He was alive. "H-How?"

"How would I prove it?" Jace mused. "I think this would do quite well." He walked over to me, as graceful as a panther, slid his fingers along my jawline and chin to tilt my face up towards his, and kissed me with the bruising passion I loved so much.

He broke away much to soon, and if Jace was going to kiss me in front of his brother and his brother's boyfriend, I was going to take advantage of it. As Jace began to pull away, I grabbed his neck and tugged his lips back towards mine. Caught off guard, Jace fell forward, throwing us both backwards onto Alec's bed. Jace caught himself with his arms before he squashed me underneath him and said, voice silky, "Am I real enough for you now?"

I kissed him once more, hard, and when I pulled back, I whispered, "You are now."

Jace chuckled and kissed my nose.

"Okay. Enough. Make out in your own room, please," Alec huffed, crossing his arms.

"Fine, fine," Jace said, rolling onto the side of me that wasn't occupied by a Magnus.

It was quiet for a minute. I broke the silence with, "How did you find me? Or know, for that matter? And Jace, where were you, when Alec was rescuing me?"

Magnus, Jace, and Alec all started talking at the same time, and then glared at each other (or more Magnus and Alec glared at Jace and Jace glared back).

I couldn't help but smile. "Magnus, you start."

"We tried tracing you, using magic," the warlock explained. "Instead of finding you, I found your letter."

"Oh," I said intelligently, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"And, just for the record, you did sound like a love-struck fool," Jace said, smirking. "But, you're in love with me, so I forgive you."

"What about you?" I turned to Jace. "The Seelie Court Queen said you had visited her, looking for me."

"I did," Jace admitted. "That was before Magnus found the letter. And in answer to your first question, I was Isabelle. We were distracting the majority of the guards."

I turned to Alec. "So what was it I saw? Jace . . . " My voice trained off and I swallowed hard.

"Just an illusion. She must have found some way to imply it was Jace without lying."

I shook my head. "I can't believe I let her trick me. I feel like just a kid. She's always gotten under my skin . . . but. . . I just hate her. I wouldn't be surprised if she set every guard she has control over after me for leaving a red mark on her pretty face."

"What's this?" Magnus said. "Elaborate."

"I got mad," I said, biting my lip. "I slapped her."

"Oh, I've done that enough times. Slapped someone when I'm mad, I mean," Alec mused. "In fact, only a couple of days ago, before Jace's wedding–"

Jace pointed an index finger threateningly at Alec. "Enough out of you, thank you very much."

"So that's what happened," Magnus chuckled. "I'd wondered why Jace looked to annoyed."

Jace noticed my silence after his marriage was mentioned. He turned his body towards me, and a the tiniest of sighs escaped his lips. "Clary, did you kill Valentine?"

I shook my head, and heard Magnus draw in a sharp breath. Jace glanced at Alec, looking worried. I continued, "He was already dead."

"What?" Jace sounded surprised. "How? What happened?"

I swallowed. "Kamila–"

Jace cut me off. "My sister?" He sounded so perplexed, I almost smiled.

"_Our _sister," I corrected him, but he simply looked at me with an expression that said _you're going to have to explain, or my brain is going to explode._

"My mother, and Valentine, they had a kid. Kamila," I started. "Then Valentine tried to experiment on her. I don't know what he did, but I don't think my mom liked it. I think she divorced him because he tried to change Kamila. He wanted to make a master race of Shadowhunters.

"So then he married Celine, your mom, Jace, and I'm not sure if he tried the experiment on you. . . but I know he's done it to me . . . I really don't know any of the details, but after Kamila died, he somehow brought her back. She kept going on about how she was a daughter of demons or something like that, so I guess that might be it. Anyway, Kamila got tired of Valentine's plan, she turned on him, and killed him. And she was the one who gave the order to kill Max, and," I paused, swallowing hard. "And I killed her."

There was silence for a moment, then Magnus spoke. "I remember story, a ritual would be a better term, in which a person could be brought back to life by a greater demon and . . ." Magnus trailed off, swallowed, and continued, "And a blood pact with another being."

"What does that mean?" Jace asked.

"It means, if that was the ritual Valentine used, there could be another person like Kamila out there."

"Definitely a good topic to dwell on, then," Jace replied sarcastically. He stood up and stretched. "Well, anyway. I'm hungry. And your friend, Simon, could be useful in such a case."

Bewildered, I asked, "What? How?"

"He might be able to distract Isabelle long enough for us to get away before she threatens to cook for us."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Alec said.

"Wait." I hesitated to ask what was going through my mind, but I couldn't help open my mouth. "What about your marriage?"

"The Clave is considering it void under the circumstances. Thank you mom for that one, Clary." Jace held out his hand to help me up. I took it and he draped an arm over my shoulder, leading me out of Alec's room. "But, seriously, who's up for Taki's?"

. : . : .

** Wow. Just wow. This took so long to write, and I'm honestly amazing it actually got finished. This was one of those stories that started out just an idea and turned into something much, much longer. Just. Wow. I'm really just ahbaskhgdakshg. I loved writing this story, and I hoped you enjoyed reading it just as much (though I'm not sure that's humanly possible. Although, I've also banged my head against the desk in annoyance and frustration, but I don't think you'll do that, either.) Okay. I'm gonna stop crying now and get to the main point of this author's note.**

** In case anyone is confused about what happened, this should clear things up. **

** Starting with Jocelyn and Valentine's relationship. Jocelyn and Valentine were married three years before Clary was born,. Kamila is, as you should know, their daughter. While she was young, Valentine tried to experiment on her with angel blood, but it didn't work since she was already born. Jocelyn didn't like that Valentine was experimenting on her baby, so she divorced him. (Obviously, their relationship was always rocky.)**

** So, anyway. Valentine inherited the Institute, raised Kamila, got together with Jacey Mommy, and created the beautiful Jace whatever-the-heck-you-want-his-last-name-to-be. At the same time, Jocelyn hooked up with Luke, and then, boom! There was Clary. So, yup, Clary is in love with her sister's brother, but has no blood relation to him. It's complicated. Moving on.**

** When my darling Kamila died, Valentine hooked her up with a certain greater demon who we shall call . . . hmm. . . Larry. Larry one, brought her back to life, and two, gave her semi-advanced, Clary destroying powers. We now interrupt this program to go to Cassandra Clare's friend who love 'em demon babies. (Old Tumblr post reference.)**

** For any other questions, PM me or leave a review. Seriously, even if your a guest, I'll edit this A/N to include the answer, because, if you're asking, then other people may also be asking. Also, I may be making a sequel to this, but it probably won't be up for a while. Look out for it though, if you enjoyed Darkened Reality.**

**Q && A:**

**Q: What did Jocelyn have to do with Jace and Isabelle's marriage being void? **

**A: She has a position in the Clave and convinced the rest of the council that the marriage should be null, since it was forced by an ex-Shadowhunter. **

**Q: How did Simon become a Daylighter? **

**A: Basically, the same way he did in the books, just with a different scenario. It was, however, the same person. Trying to avoid spoilers here! xD**

**Q: Why was Valentine declared dead?**

**A: He was missing for so long, the Clave assumed he was dead. It's like missing person cases. If they don't turn up for a while, no ransom note, no contact, nothing, then people are usually assumed to be dead. Though Valentine's body was never found, it didn't really matter since I'm sure there's plenty of demons who would've been glad to have a Shadowhunter-y dinner. **

**Q: Can you do a small chapter that shows the others' reactions to reading the letter from Clary?**

**A: I was thinking about it, but I'm not sure. I might. It definitely seems fun. The only reason I didn't put it in this was because I wanted to stay consisted with the first-person Clary POV. **

** That was really long. I'm sorry. I'll just shut up now. **


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